The Dare That Ended Us

Clara looked at me coldly.

“What’s with the sarcasm, Nathan? What exactly are you trying to do? It was just a game.”

One of Clara’s friends, Mary Tanner, chimed in, “Exactly. If you can’t handle it, don’t come to a bar.”

I nodded and calmly shot back, “You’re right. I can’t handle it. Since you’re so open-minded, why don’t you French kiss every guy here?”

The girl flushed crimson with anger.

“You’re insane,” she snapped.

Clara frowned and looked at me, then suddenly barked, “You’re being incredibly disrespectful. Apologize to Mary.”

She ordered me the way she always did, cruel and harsh.

In the past, I would have obeyed her without hesitation.

I had grown accustomed to being the humble giver, and she had grown accustomed to being the one who stood above, receiving.

But this time, I did not comply.

I did not believe I had done anything wrong.

“Cat got your tongue, Nathan?”

I felt a tightness in my chest and could hardly breathe.

I no longer wanted to stay there, so I turned and walked straight out of the party.

“Nathan, if you dare walk away, don’t ever come looking for me again.”

Clara’s angry, threatening voice rang out behind me.

I knew I had embarrassed her in front of all her friends. She must have been furious.

My body reacted before my reason did; instinctively, I almost turned back to beg her forgiveness.

I feared angering her more than anything.

Her giving me the silent treatment was the last thing I wanted.

To win her forgiveness, I’d crawled back to her before, doing everything I could to please her.

Sometimes she forgave me after a day or two if she was in a good mood; other times, it took ten days or half a month before her anger faded.

After what happened tonight, she would probably stay angry for a month.

But fortunately, a shred of reason remained in me.

I did not hesitate.

I did not turn back.

Sitting in my car, replaying the piercing scenes from tonight, I trembled uncontrollably.

I pulled out my phone and still sent that message I had contemplated for so long.

[Clara, starting today, let’s part on good terms.]

Before pressing send, I could not help recalling everything that had happened between us over the past five years.

But everything ended today.

The message failed to send. A glaring exclamation mark appeared.

Clara had already blocked me on WhatsApp.

When I returned home, the apartment lay in complete darkness.

I did not turn on the lights. I walked straight in and sat down on the cold floor.

If I cried in the dark, no one would see, right?

I opened several bottles of alcohol and drank recklessly, trying to drown myself, hoping the numbness of liquor would dull the pain.

Clara hated the smell of alcohol on anyone. In front of her, I never smoked or drank.

Now, it no longer mattered.

After consuming far too much, I could no longer hold on. In a haze, I collapsed onto the sofa and fell asleep.

When I woke, my head throbbed violently. The sun had already set.

Instinctively, I walked into the kitchen and prepared two portions of food.

I even simmered Clara’s favorite chicken soup.

I let out a sigh, took out a lunch container, and packed everything neatly inside.

Habit really was a scary thing.

Clara had always had a poor appetite.

Her constitution was weak, and during her period, she suffered so much she could barely stand.

To help restore her health, I had transformed from someone who had never set foot in a kitchen into a skilled home cook.

Whenever I had time, I prepared meals at home and delivered them to her.

Cooking for two had become a habit I’d kept for years.

I picked up the food container and decided to say a proper goodbye to Clara.

Since I had already cooked, we could share one last meal together.

When I arrived at the door to her house, I took a deep breath and pressed the doorbell.

She had always said that even couples needed their own private space, so she had never told me the passcode to her home, nor had she ever allowed me to stay overnight.

As I stood there, anxiously rehearsing what I would say, the door suddenly swung open.

Standing there, opening the door, was none other than Ethan.

He wore a bathrobe, the belt tied loosely, exposing most of his chest, radiating raw masculine energy.

Water droplets still fell from his hair.

He looked as though he had just stepped out of the shower.